Part 1 (2/2)

Poor Seeta hastened to the youth she loved, And to him with a gladdened heart thus spake:-- Her rosy lips, just oped to speak, were like A half-blown rosebud blossoming all at once; Such magic was wrought on her ere she spake: ”Kind stranger, whither goest thou? I am A lonely maiden, and friends I have none; And thee alone I trust as my safe guide To Krishnapore.”

”Dear maid! thy sorrows cease; My way now lies through Krishnapore: fear not, I shall restore thee to thy home and friends; Trust me as your safe guide and dearest friend.”

She, overjoyed, recounted to the youth Her tale--how she, her father's only hope And pride, reluctant left their native vale And cottage home; how he died on the way, And she, a lonely creature, wandered in The streets from door to door and begged for food; How she was taken to the famine camp; How he, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, Was brought one day and there nursed tenderly; And how in beauty ev'ry day he grew Until like her dead Rama he appeared.

The village youth, unable any more Now to suppress him, suddenly exclaimed, ”Look here, whose name is on this arm tattooed?”

”O Rama, Krishna, Govinda, and all Ye G.o.ds that I adore, ye have blest me; This is the happiest moment in my life, And this the happiest spot in all the earth, For now my long-lost Rama I have found.”

So saying, she intently gazed on him.

As a rich mine pours forth its hidden wealth To the delight of those that day and night Court eagerly its treasures them t' enrich; So from this lovely pair's deep mine of feelings, What honeyed words escaped now through their lips To their intense joy, better far than all The treasures any ample mine bestows!

With sweet talk they beguiled their tedious way; The verdant hills sublime rose to the view; The broad lake glittered diamond-like again; And wreathing smoke curled from the cottage roofs; The lovely vale became the lovely vale Again, and all the long forgotten scenes In quick succession flowed before them both; And never was a happier marriage seen In all that happy vale of Krishnapore.

_THE STORY OF PRINCE DeSING_.

It was the month of May, and glorious rose The sun on Jinji, bathing in his light Her lofty hills, her ancient walls and towers, Her battlements, and all the glittering scene That bade the stranger tell--”here lives a prince;”

And greeting late, as if too long he slept Upon his ocean bed, the eager crowd That in their best attire at early dawn Fast gathered from their hamlets far and wide, And like a hive swarmed on the castled hills.

Perhaps some village poet waited there, Who day and night toiled hard in metres rare To sing the deeds and virtues of his prince And trace them on the leaves of that lone palm Which stood close by his humble cottage home.

Perhaps with faces that bespoke deep grief A troop of farmers there had come to tell To their sport-loving prince the havoc wrought Upon their toiling cattle by wild beasts That nightly from their hill abodes came down To feast on them. And in that motley crowd Were servants of the state and many more Who long had waited merely for a glimpse Of their just ruler Desing holding court.

But soon there echoed through the lofty hills The sound of th' Indian bugle and the drum Proclaiming the arrival of the prince; And often, as the new flood rus.h.i.+ng down With the still waters of a sleeping stream, Leaves nought behind, and all is vacancy, Or as the dim light of a shallow lamp Suddenly blazes forth and soon is quenched, So louder rose the clamour of the crowd At the sound of the bugle and the drum, Then straightway in deep silence died away, And perfect stillness reigned everywhere.

Upon his gorgeous throne sat Jinji's prince With servants fanning him on either side; And in a place of honour sate in that Capacious hall his holy Brahmin priest, The master of his well-trained army there, The chief and trusted min'ster of the state, The aged poet that his praises sang, The sage that, versed in all the starry lore, His royal master's fortunes daily told; The painter that adorned those ancient walls, And countless other servants of the prince There gathered each in his accustomed seat.

Then from the gate approached a trusty page, And said with folded hands and trembling lips-- ”O royal master, at the gate there waits A man of n.o.ble mien from the far north Requesting audience on affairs of state.”

”Conduct him to our presence,” said the prince.

The stranger came,--upon the floor he knelt And said--”Thou mighty prince of these fair lands, I come from Arcot, and the Nabob sent His humble servant to demand of thee Thy dues which these five years thou hast not paid.

Know, then, if these are not now duly paid, From thee he will these broad dominions wrest, And give them those who will his rule obey.”

The angry prince made answer--”Go and tell Your master that his vain threats move us not, Say we will gladly meet him on the field.”

So saying, from his royal seat he rose, And to his palace instantly withdrew.

As when a stone dropped in the middle of A placid pool its slumb'ring waters wakes, And the calm surface is all ruffled seen, Or at the merest touch of ruthless man Bent on the honeyed treasures of the hive Those myriad ones leave murm'ring to the foe Their h.o.a.rded wealth to which they fondly clung, So scattered to their distant native homes The bustling crowd that met on Jinji's hills, When he of Arcot came to mar their joys.

And days and months rolled on until one day To Desing came his loyal spy and said-- ”My n.o.ble ruler, on the other side Of the fair stream that runs through yonder plain, There waits our foe of Arcot with his men: Prepare to go and meet him on the field.”

'Twas even time--the warrior prince soon wrote To Mamood Khan, the master of his troops, To hasten to his country's duty first.

What though it was that soldier's bridal hour, When he received his royal master's call!

”My country's welfare first, then my fair spouse,”

He said, and leapt upon his faithful steed And stood, ere morn had streaked the eastern sky, Before his lord his bidding to obey.

The prince rose early on that fated day And to the temple of his G.o.d repaired, There to invoke His blessing on the field.

Then to the palace hastened he to meet, Ere he went forth to fight, his youthful wife, Who day by day in beauty grew amidst A score of maidens, like the waxing moon; And, with a screen of silk between, they met.

As one lured by the fragrance of the rose Stoops down gently to lift the truant stalk That to the other side of the thick hedge Shoots out alone from its own parent stem, So fondly down stooped Jinji's n.o.ble prince To kiss the jewelled arm of his fair spouse Which through the screen she offered to her lord.

Prince Desing was the first who silence broke.

”My dear wife! on the day when we were wed These eyes of mine had not e'en this arm seen, Although on the same bridal seat we sat.

The screen which by the custom of our race Was drawn by cruel hands hid thee from view.

So wondrous fair this arm looks that methinks Rare beauties must be seated on thy face.

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